Disclaimer: I own nothing.
A/N: Thank you all my lovely commenters King42- I'm talking to you! Crazy80, front and center! You! I see you...enjoying my story and telling me how much you like it! Thanks 3
"You love me." It wasn't a question.
"Yes, you incredible madman." John smiled, but there was a hesitance in it. John's hands untangled themselves from Sherlock and came to rest on his face. Sherlock was still perched on the arm of the couch, so John readjusted his position; he was on his knees, nestled between Sherlock's incredibly long legs.
"Oh..." Sherlock's eyes glossed over. "Oh." Even though there was no movement, Sherlock's brain was firing off on all pistons. He was replaying everything that had taken place between them since the night he and John had met. It was so obvious...and John had seen it before him. Sherlock finally saw it- John was perfection. "Oh!" Sherlock blinked and he gasped.
"John! I reciprocate your emotions." Sherlock's hand flew up and landed on John's chest.
"I've never quite been told in that way before." John teased.
"Not to put down your previous relationships, but I do find that I am not normally comparable to the masses." Sherlock's fingers began to tinker with one of the buttons on John's red shirt.
"I suppose not. So, are we in a relationship now?" John's hands moved down to Sherlock's neck. He began to finger through the soft hair on Sherlock's nape.
Sherlock cleared his throat. "Only if you want to be. I'm not accustomed to forcing myself onto others."
John laughed. "Yeah, sure you're not."
Sherlock went to rebuttal, but John tugged at Sherlock's hair hard causing him to give a small yelp of surprise.
"Yes! You crazy beautiful man." Without another second passing, John closed the gap between them.
It started in a clash of lips. They were pressed closed and Sherlock only felt chapped skin rubbing against each other. Sherlock had no idea what to do. He puckered his lips but instead of making it better, it only served to mush their mouths together at a more awkward angle.
John moved his head away laughing. A blush covered Sherlock's cheeks and neck, he didn't think he'd ever been more embarrassed in his whole life. He had to explain that, I don't have any data, John. How can I do this successfully with nothing to compare it too?
But John wasn't laughing because he was upset. "This is the most ludicrous thing we've ever done! But god, I can just imagine how fantastic this is going to be. Here sit still."
John held Sherlock's head, to made sure the taller man didn't move. John tilted his head and licked his lips. He brought them down on Sherlock in just a feather light touch. It was smooth and Sherlock's lips parted slightly.
The doctor continued his assault on the gorgeous man before him. His lips began to linger for longer intervals on Sherlock. He kissed him full on the mouth, but also on the sides and all around.
Sherlock went limp under all the attention he was receiving. His body was liquid, molten fire ran through his veins. He had no idea a kiss could feel so intimate. That, although he had done other sexual acts, the closeness to the other person in this singular act could leave him so breathless. Although other parts of his anatomy were obviously more sensitive, this obtained the intimacy he had craved.
The connection to another person- to not only paint a soul but to know it fully. To not be the man always on the outside. John was giving this to him. One glorious man was offering all of this to Sherlock and the only request he made was to be apart of his life. It blew Sherlock's mind apart like nothing ever had before.
As John came in for another brush against Sherlock, he let his tongue slip out and it connected with John's lower lip. John released a moan and Sherlock found he couldn't hold back any longer.
The kisses that had been lazy, moved to a frantic pace. Sherlock crushed his lips onto John. However, realizing his error, Sherlock moved back so that they were still touching but no pain was there. He mirrored John's moments from before and found that he liked giving just as much as he liked receiving.
Not enough of their bodies were touching for Sherlock's taste, so in one single well calculated fall, he landed on top of John on the couch. He heard John let out a small 'huff' but he recovered marvelously and went back to his previous action of kissing Sherlock senseless.
As Sherlock became more daring, John's body began to writhe under him. The shorter man wiggled and groaned. Finally, his groin began to grind into Sherlock. He was pleased to see that, even with only kissing, John was a bundle of sexual nerves.
John disconnected his mouth and began to assault the surrounding areas of Sherlock's mouth. His fingers began to claw at Sherlock's shirt, untucking it and pushing it up his torso. "Shirt. off."
Sherlock lightly pushed off John's chest and straddled him sitting up. Within a flash, all of the buttons were undone and Sherlock's silk shirt was in a pile on the floor. He went to bend back down, but hands came up and started to touch the white expanse of his chest.
As fingers made gliding motions all over his chest and stomach, Sherlock let out a small shiver. "God, you really are something." Hands moved their way up to fiddle with erect nipples. Sherlock let out a groan of appreciation and his hips began to move. It was a slow rhythm; John, with his palms opened, began to rub his rough skin over Sherlock's nipples.
Sherlock responded beautifully to all the new stimuli. Dully, he wondered how much painting would get done when he realized that all he wanted to do for the rest of his life was this. His trousers were too tight and he decided to voice as much to John. Before his fingers could move from their resting spots, John's hands began to slide down. They lingered momentarily near his bellybutton, admiring the beginnings of a happy trail.
Sherlock waited with his anticipation, thankful that he would be released from the confides of his trousers. As he had expected, the doctor's hands made quick work of both his trousers and pants. Sherlock's erection strained up against his lower region and he groaned in thankfulness.
"I just realized. I never returned the favor." John's voice was hazy.
Sherlock barely registered the words before his mind exploded into a single focus of pleasure.
John's hands were sure and steady. They were callused and Sherlock could instantly recognize the difference of texture on his cock. As he hummed in his chest, John moved his hand up and down. Rhythm was easily obtained and Sherlock's eyelids fluttered shut.
Through his haze, he heard John muttering words. Most were endearments, but many were also chastising him on his inability to see the obvious. "We could have been doing this a month ago. Oh, god, Sherlock...just fucking gorgeous."
Although his comments would have normally gotten him chastised, Sherlock found that words won't form in his mouth. So, the let the sound of John's voice wrap around him as his hand had done.
John's thumb flicked at his tip, playing and circling it with his pre-cum. With the added slickness, John began to pick up pace. Sherlock's hips moved up and down, bumping up against the blonde man's erection.
With a blinding force, Sherlock achieved orgasm. He sputtered out a few words and before his body began to convulse. "John...!" Being able to call out that name as he came, was a glorious thing.
When he finally opened his eyes to look back down at John, he could see the man underneath him still had eyes lidded heavy with need.
Sherlock shimmied down John, intent on his goal.
"But why?"
"Because, I feel like my reflection is staring a hole in me and it makes me uncomfortable. Besides, if you want me lovingly gaze down at you all you have to do is ask."
"You mean gaze 'up', John."
"You're an ass."
"I honestly wish you won't resort to name calling."
John rolled his eyes and turned back to brewing his tea and buttering their toast.
Sherlock had been awestruck at how the portrait of John Watson had come out once he had finished the piece. However, when Sherlock saw the finished product, he realized he wanted no one else but himself to see that look in his lovers eyes. So, John's portrait became the very first one that Sherlock kept.
Mycroft had pissed and moaned. But Sherlock promised to start of Madam Baskerville the next day and that had appeased his exasperated older brother.
Sherlock had wanted to hang the painting in their bedroom but after the first night, John had demanded Sherlock take it down. After a ten minute argument while making breakfast, Sherlock finally relented.
"Just keep it in the closet." John said and sat back down at the kitchen table.
"Ah, the closet. Somewhere I'm sure you're used to being John."
John choked on his toast. "What the hell is that suppose to mean?"
"I mean that when 'Mary' walked away you didn't seem to distraught. Yet, I come round and..." Sherlock smirked. "I not only see but I observe."
John snorted. "Yeah. Now eat your toast."
Sherlock gave John a cheeky smile and took a small nibble of buttered toast.
Sherlock had been right. He loved waking up and sitting at the table with the same person who had occupied the position next to him at dinner the night before.
"I love you, John."
PS. Starting a new fanfic "Of Scale & Flesh". bbot808 submitted the idea to me. It's a AU Beauty and the Beast, but Sherlock is a dragon. I really like the idea. Hope you'll come and join me! 3
